


For the Best

by Beautiful_Infinity, Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Infinity/pseuds/Beautiful_Infinity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So Beautiful Infinity wrote a thing about Sideswipe.</p><p>Jarakrisafis read the thing and wrote a thing about Sunstreaker.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Sideswipe

**Author's Note:**

> So Beautiful Infinity wrote a thing about Sideswipe.
> 
> Jarakrisafis read the thing and wrote a thing about Sunstreaker.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was at his breaking point. Everything good was tainted now. Memories that could once bring nostalgic joy now only brought sharp pain and a longing rooted so deep it made his spark ache. He wanted so desperately to blame the war. To blame Megatron and the Decepticons. Prime and the Autobots. Yet the truth was it had started before the war had. So, it could only be him.

Something was wrong with /him/.

He wished he knew what. He wished he knew how to fix it. Because he couldn't keep pretending. The mech sobbed into his hand, fingers curling against the new dent, the new wash of pain from the pinched lines and circuits and the memory of just kliks ago that accompanied it.

He couldn't do it anymore. 

With another strangled half sob, black fingers dug against chest plating, yanking it aside when it didn't open fast enough. The pain was nothing compared to the anguished pulsing of his tattered spark. With shaking hands and a quiet assurance that it was better this way, he brought his wrist knife to bear. The dull glowing flicker of each spark pulse danced in front of his hands. Carefully feeling for the thick wire, linking spark chamber to energon pathways, he continued to weep his pain silently. 

Finding it was almost too easy. He half expected Ratchet to bust down the door, demanding what he thought he was doing. But Ratchet didn't know he was here. Nobody did. Nobody even knew what happened. The mech shuttered his optics, taking a shaky invent before setting the blade against the cable and cut.

Warm energon immediately flooded down his chassis and sprayed outwards along his legs and the floor. It was only a matter of kliks now. He let the knife drop with a clatter that already seemed far off. He began to feel heavy as the groons ticked away on his chronometer and his optics dimmed. The gushing from moments ago began to slow and his grip on reality faded.

It's for the best. He assures himself one last time, keeping his cowardly self from comming medbay in a fit of fear sparked panic.

For the best.

By the time Sunstreaker returned to their quarters, he would find his biggest burden gone. Greyed out and cooling. Bled dry and spark guttered out. Maybe then his twin wouldn't hate him so much. 

Sideswipe shuttered his optics one last time, sighing his last vent. It was time he got out of the way. Time to be moving on. He wondered if Primus had a place in the Well for those as pathetic as he was.

It's for the best.


	2. Sunstreaker

Something has felt... different all day. Something that he can't quite put a finger on. Just that he had been watching the monitors like always and there's been this feeling in his spark that something is wrong. He double checked the camera's, then triple checked them. Yet nothing was showing up. Nothing different than usual.

It's like he's lost something but can't quite work out what he's forgotten. He should know. He should. He almost comm'd Ratchet to ask if memory files can degrade but decided not to.

He had finished up, signed off and wandered into the rec room like he always does. He drew a cube of energon from the dispenser and settled down to drink it as he flicks through a pad. It doesn't hold his interest and he turns it off with a vent. Whatever the feeling is, it was stronger than before, and he saw several mechs giving him odd glances, as if they know what's different about today. About what he might be missing. He didn't ask though, he'll work it out eventually.

Perhaps he thought, he just needs to recharge, let a full defragmentation and recalibration run through his systems, that usually works. That's why he's here, standing in front of his quarters. The door opens at his silent ping and he steps inside, heading for the desk to file his pad. He's halfway across the room when he registers that there is something on the floor.

Energon, long cold and starting to dry.

He stares at it blankly before his gaze comes to rest on the greyed out chassis propped against a wall, the sightless optics staring straight ahead.

He knows the mech. He knows his designation: Sideswipe.

He can't remember him though. He's fading from his life, from his memory and spark, like the colour has faded from the once bright armour.

Perhaps it's for the best.

He feels more free now than he ever has before.


End file.
